


Chuck vs. The Rules

by nutmeg223



Series: Charles NOT in Charge [2]
Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Discipline, Domestic Discipline, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Mild D/s, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 07:07:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11823681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutmeg223/pseuds/nutmeg223





	Chuck vs. The Rules

Casey sipped his scotch, cracked open 'A Modern History of Ancient Weaponry', and ignored his huffing, pantsless brat decorating one corner of his living room (the kid was his, had been since they'd met, practically). He'd definitely have to requisition a librarian on his next mission, too, provided it wasn't in a cave in a desert. All he had to do was give her a list of favorite topics, and new books replaced the ones he'd read every three weeks, not that he had a lot of time for reading. Her mission report filing system was truly terrifying, but she'd transcribe or type things for him with no commentary or bitching. And she baked. Although, the last meant he spent a lot of his off-time keeping a certain kid's hands out of the cookie jar. The kid who was doing his best to jump up and down on his last shred of patience, not that he had a ton of it to begin with. 

Casey looked up from the chapter on trebuchet to see Chuck shift and mumble something rude, bouncing his bare toes lightly off the baseboard. The squirming highlighted his smacked-pink backside, probably the reason for the squirming. Christ, all he had to do was stand still and quiet for half an hour, but it looked like they were headed for a full-on paddling. 

"That's one." Casey began the count for the fourth time, keeping his tone level, as he flipped to the directions for the scale model and restarted the timer. They'd been trying for a half-hour for the past two. Kid couldn't get past twelve minutes. 

At restart 3, he'd taken Chuck's pants. At 6, he'd removed the boxers and swatted. At 9, he'd bent the kid over his hip and smacked. Chuck got one more set of three before he went over Casey's knee. 

Chuck stamped a foot in protest at the restart, but he didn't turn around or speak. Finally, some progress. Casey ignored the stamp, taking what success he could. Being new to any kind of effective discipline, Chuck was getting a lot more latitude than most, not that it would last that much longer. Although, if he got any more lip from his boy, then Chuck would be taste-testing Ivory. Another twelve minutes passed, and Casey found himself holding his breath as they went for thirteen. 

"This is fucking stupid!" Chuck muttered mutinously and kicked the baseboard again.. "I'm not six!"

Casey closed his eyes and counted back from fifty. In Russian. Twice. He did it one more time before he got up and went into the kitchen to retrieve a washcloth and a fresh bar of soap. He lathered the cloth at the sink before he stalked back into the living room, headed straight for his boy. Chuck wore defiance in every line of his body as he bitched and grumbled, just loudly enough to be heard clearly. Casey turned him by his shoulder and applied cloth to target when Chuck opened his mouth to complain. He scrubbed his boy's mouth thoroughly before he pitched the washcloth back into the kitchen. That done, he bent Chuck over his hip again and relit a fierce sting with a couple dozen well-placed spanks. Chuck spluttered and squealed, wiggling desperately against his hold. Casey swatted once more before he righted his boy. 

"Go rinse." He ordered shortly. 

Chuck scuttled into the kitchen to rinse and spit desperately. Casey gave him a full minute, which he considered damned lenient, before he went to turn off the water and send Chuck back to the corner. 

"Half an hour. You screw around again, and I will spank you."

Chuck trudged back to his corner, still projecting defiance, although a slightly more tearful version than a few minutes before. Casey went back to his scotch and his book. Chuck'd been pushing his buttons hard, all day, since surveillance in the van that morning. Apparently someone had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, and hadn't gotten enough sleep. He'd wound up making the kid spend most of their time in the van writing "I will not purposely annoy Major Casey, or he WILL cream me" in an attempt to halt the rebellion in its tracks. Obviously, it hadn't made the right impression. 

He wondered what the hell had gotten into the kid; he'd behaved himself, more or less, for the better part of the month they'd been doing this. He checked the timer again, and felt some hope that Chuck would make it through the last fifteen minutes. After another five, though, more rebellion fomented in the corner. 

"What did you say?" Casey asked dangerously. The correct answer was "Nothing! I'm sorry! I'll behave!"

"I said NO! I won't do this! You can't make me!" Chuck turned and shouted. 

Casey was taken aback for a moment; he could count on one hand the number of times Chuck had seriously raised his voice. He'd put up with a little muttering, but he would never accept outright defiance from his boy.

"That right there?"  he growled and advanced on Chuck. "That was three."

* * *

 

Chuck backed into the corner, hands out placatingly at Casey's murderous glare. He was suddenly completely convinced of the idiocy of pushing any more.

"No! Please! I'll be good! I'll be quiet!" he pleaded, humiliatingly. He'd rather go up against any enemy of the state than Casey looking like that, though. He didn't even think Sarah would go up against a Casey looking like that. 

Casey didn't trust himself to say a word, so he just grabbed Chuck by the wrist and towed him toward the sofa. Chuck twisted in his grip and begged for leniency, but Casey just sat and draped the brat over one thigh. Chuck squirmed and tried to push up off his lap, so Casey pinned his boy's legs under his other and took Chuck's outside wrist, pinning it at the small of his back. Chuck's pleas grew increasingly frantic as he realized he wasn't going anywhere. It never failed; the first real spanking and a boy went freewheeling into panic. Casey landed a solid spank on his boy's pink backside, ending the frantic wiggling. 

"OW!" Chuck protested, starting at the smack. 

"I'm NOT putting up with the insubordination and the defiance you've been throwing around today, kid. Enough. You're done." 

Having said what he needed to, Casey set about delivering a sound spanking. If Chuck thought he could get away with being a complete brat, or if he thought that he could push Casey away with his behavior, then he had another think coming. In any case, Chuck needed a damn good paddling, partially to enforce actual boundaries and partially to let him blow off whatever emotion he was trying to suppress or deal with or whatever. Casey had the hard part; he had to walk the fine line between being firm and being heavy-handed since going overboard could be disastrous to the relationship he was trying to build. He spanked steadily, quickly bringing Chuck's pink cheeks to a good healthy red. Chuck kicked as much as he was able, squirmed, bellowed, and begged, the fight draining slowly out of him. 

He didn't have any trouble containing the kid's squirming and struggling, and he was thankful he'd had the apartment sound-proofed before moving in. Otherwise, the kid's hollering would have had everyone and their brother banging on his door. He really didn't want to explain this to Ellie, even if it meant he was a coward. He let his hand fall heavily, painting deep, burning red over Chuck's backside. 

Judging the moment, he shifted Chuck forward and targeted soft sit-spots and thighs. Chuck wailed, kicked against the new and completely unwelcome sting, and dissolved into penitent weeping. He wilted over Casey's lap, finally accepting the discipline. 

"Sorry! M'sorry!" he wailed. "Didn't mean...m'sorry!"

It was the sort of thing most very sorry boys wailed, but Casey knew Chuck well enough to know that his boy had gotten the message. He moved back up to Chuck's sit-spots and paddled hard for a few more minutes, wanting to make certain that his boy remembered his manners every time he sat down for the next day or so. Finally, he rested a hand on Chuck's blazing bottom and patted. 

"Are you done being a brat?" he asked sternly.

"Yes! Yessir!" Chuck sobbed. "Promise!"

Casey patted an unspanked portion of Chuck's thigh again and smiled at the first and completely sincere 'sir' from his boy. He didn't manhandle the kid up into his lap, yet, since they had some talking to do. He wanted his boy's mind on behaving himself and the vulnerable position of his backside. He waited for Chuck to calm, rubbing a hand up and down his boy's back until the awful, tearing sobs quieted into soft, shuddering tears. 

"What was today about, kid?" he asked, gentling his tone a bit. 

Chuck shifted uncomfortably and pushed his toes against the floor. 

"Can I -" he started. 

"You're staying put until I get an answer."

Chuck muttered something; Casey saw the back of his neck start to go pink. 

"What was that?"

"I didn't eat breakfast." Chuck squirmed again. 

"You were a complete brat all day because you didn't eat breakfast?" sometimes, the way the kid's brain worked baffled him. 

"You asked and...and I lied to you because I didn't get enough sleep and I wasn't hungry and you didn't...you didn't…"

"I didn't call you on it?" Casey guessed. 

"Yessir." Chuck shifted. "And…I wasn't really hungry at lunch, either, and…"

"And I didn't make you eat." Casey finished, rubbing his palm over his face. "Christ, kid, so you felt guilty, and then bratted at me all day because I didn't get it and your blood sugar was in the toilet?"

Chuck squirmed; his ears went pink. 

"It sounds really dumb."

Casey patted him again. "That's because it WAS really dumb."

"Hey!" Chuck objected to that with a wiggle. "Umm…"

"What? Just spit it out." 

"You'renotleavingareyou?" Chuck rushed the sentence, ears going from pink to red. He didn't want to, but he needed to know. He didn't know if he'd want to stick around with him after his behavior…

The question hit Casey like a gut punch. Christ, the kid was all insecurities. Sometimes, he'd really like a quiet ten minutes with the Bartowski parents. And about a week and a secure location with Bryce and Jill. Make that a week apiece. With his blowtorch. 

"Chuck, you could be a complete shit 24 hours a day, and I wouldn't be going anywhere. You wouldn't have pants privileges and you'd never be able to sit down, though."

That said, Casey manhandled Chuck up into his lap, wiped the last few tears off his boy's cheeks, and tucked him close. Chuck curled around him, fitting his long limbs into an impossibly small space. Casey rubbed a big hand up and down his boys' back and let him cling. 

"M'sorry," Chuck murmured, resting his cheek against Casey's shoulder. 

"We handled it, kid." Casey reminded, dropping his hand to very gently pat his boy's radiating backside. 

"Yeah...but I was a jerk and I'm sorry." 

"Okay." Casey moved his hand back up to keep rubbing Chuck's back. 

They lapsed back into quiet, and Chuck soaked up the comfort. The big hand moving up and down his spine felt fantastic, and despite his blazing ass, he was comfortable. There was, though, one thing before he could be really comfortable…

"I still owe you a half-hour." 

Casey allowed himself a little glow of pride at his boy's honesty, although he hadn't expected anything else from Chuck. 

"You do." He agreed. "Are you ready to behave for me?"

There really was only one possible response to that question. 

"Yessir."

"Good boy." Casey praised as he helped Chuck find his feet. 

"You know, you're being really, really patient. Like, weird patient, buddy. Should I be looking for pods in the basement?" Chuck let himself be led back to the corner. 

"I'm thinking of you as a baby bonsai." Casey deadpanned. "Now, stand up straight and keep your hands by your sides." He intercepted a hand reaching back to rub. 

"A baby bonsai?" Chuck twisted around to glare, partially from the bonsai crack and partially because he really, really wanted to rub some of the sting from his ass. "I am NOT a tree."

Casey turned Chuck toward the corner. 

"You need training and discipline, and occasional snipping," he patted Chuck's deep red butt. "And unless you want more?"

"Shutting up!" Chuck stood up straight and stopped trying to turn around. 

"Good. That's my good boy." Casey let himself be more liberal with the praise since Chuck responded to it, and rested his hands on his boy's shoulder. The kid responded to the deep pressure, too, shoulders relaxing under his touch. "You think about how you got here, today."

Chuck made a noise that sounded like a choked off question. 

"You can ask one question." Casey allowed. 

"Umm…" Chuck started turning pink again. "Do I get pants...after?"

Casey stifled the urge to snort. 

"You do half an hour in the corner for me, and you can put on pajamas after." 

Chuck stiffened at the implication. In Casey's home, pajamas at 3:30 in the afternoon meant one of two things, and he wasn't sick. He stifled the urge to argue, though, not wanting any more attention paid to his ass, as much as he didn't want to go to bed early. 

"Half an hour." Casey reminded. "I'll be here or in the kitchen; you'll be able to hear me."

Chuck nodded. 

"Good. That's good, kid." 

With that, Casey moved to the kitchen. Since Chuck hadn't eaten anything other than the granola bar Casey'd pegged him in the head with in the van when he'd run out of patience, he needed something. He wasn't sure what the hell he had in the fridge that was still edible, but he'd figure out something. Missions didn't leave much time for things like shopping. Opening the fridge, he blinked. Someone had gone grocery shopping. Someone who'd left a note on the milk that said 

" _Beckman called. I'm pretty sure some of the takeout in here was forming its own civilization, so I cleaned out the fridge. Apparently, I'm the only one who doesn't bitch about errand duty. -M  PS You're out of spray cleaner_." 

Casey shook his head and pulled out what he needed to make a sandwich. He'd order pizza later, maybe see what movies were on. He was probably spoiling Chuck, but he figured the kid maybe deserved a little spoiling. And anyway, he'd be in bed by 9, so he figured it balanced. Probably. 

He'd have to keep a closer eye on the kid's sleeping habits, in any case. He never wanted to have to deal with the brat from hell again. 

* * *

 

Casey carded a hand through Chuck's curls as the kid dozed, head pillowed on his thigh. The end credit to some ridiculous show Chuck liked rolled, so Casey hit pause and checked his watch. 7:30. They were right on time. He figured desert and one more episode of something before he put his boy to bed. That should get them to 9, easily. He let Chuck doze for a little bit, though, since they had the time. It'd been a godawful morning, but they'd salvaged a reasonable evening out of it. He'd made sure Chuck ate his sandwich before sending him up for a shower and pajamas; the pajamas got a little grumbling, but he'd only had to raise an eyebrow to get the kid to stop. They'd done pizza and TV, with a shower-damp Chuck stretched out on the floor to eat, before he'd curled up next to Casey. 

He was, he had to admit, proud of his boy. Chuck had been back to himself, and back to behaving himself. He didn't sulk or pout, just accepted and moved on, although he'd been a little clingier than usual. That, though, was to be expected. He didn't have the best experiences with relationships, and he expected to be left behind for even the most ridiculous reasons. Like Major John Casey gave up because his boy was being a brat. He snorted at the idiocy of that one. 

He'd mostly meant the baby bonsai comment to be sarcastic, but it was true. Chuck needed to be trained up, needed the shape of himself to be revealed, needed guiding hands. He needed guiding hands for the moment, Casey reminded himself. He needed to be shown that he was worth something, that he could respect himself. Casey knew that the whole self-esteem thing was a huge crock; the kid needed to learn self-respect. It was a whole hell of a lot more useful. 

  
And Christ, he was getting way too soft about the kid. 


End file.
